


The World Weary

by pyrchance



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrchance/pseuds/pyrchance
Summary: Patton is a bit tired. Virgil helps him rest.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	The World Weary

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt by @last-young-phantom. Thanks!

Patton was a bit tired.

He rested his chin on his hand as Roman ramble on, smiling more out of habit than design. He really should have been listening to his imaginative friend’s latest brilliant idea—and he had been, _really_. He had paid attention in the beginning, when Roman had bounded into the living room waving his arms in wide, sweeping gestures.

It’s just that Patton was tired. His thoughts wandered. His eyelids felt heavy, like he’d stayed up too late, when in reality he’d slept in far past his usual wake up time. As Roman spoke, he found himself tracing the threads of half-remembered dreams, more memories swirled with moments of the fantastic. The nostalgia was sweet on his tongue, but cloying. Like cough medicine.

He just needed some more sleep, was all it was.

“So, what do you think?”

Patton blinked. Refocused. Found Roman looking at him with eager expectation. Virgil was there too, at the end of the table. Patton hadn’t even realized he’d arrived.

Patton didn’t want to disappoint. He straightened up at once, stretching his smile to fit the edges of his face. “It sounds great, kiddo! A ten out of ten!”

Roman beamed. “I knew you’d understand,” he said, throwing himself from the chair he’d snagged and rushing towards his room. “This is my most brilliant idea yet! Just wait!”

Roman’s door slammed. Patton almost sagged, caught himself, shook away his hazy daydreams, and turned towards Virgil. The other was curled up on his chair, legs tucked under his body, hands around a cup of steaming coffee held near his chest. There were dark circles under his eyes, but there were always dark circles under Virgil’s eyes. Patton wondered what it said about him that he felt a pang of envy looking at them.

He grit his teeth, pushing _that_ thought away even harder. What was wrong with him today?

“Good morning, Virgil,” Patton greeted, forcing every inch of his smile in place. “How are you on this fine day?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Patton blinked. “Sorry? What was that?”

Virgil cracked open one eye, skewing it at Patton. “You know. That.”

“What do you mean, kiddo? Uh, I mean, Virgil?”

Virgil sighed. He set his coffee down, straightening his shoulders until he was squared with Patton. “ _That_ ,” he said, waving his hand at Patton’s face. “You can stop doing that now. Roman’s gone. You won’t hurt his feelings.”

Patton’s back teeth ground together. Why was he doing such a _bad job_ today? What was _wrong_ with him?

No.

Patton breathed in through his nose, releasing it softly so Virgil wouldn’t hear. There was nothing _wrong_ with him. He was just a little tired, that was all.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Patton said.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

I was important that Virgil believed him. Patton needed him to believe him. He shook his head swiftly, leaning forward. “I’m _fine_ , Virgil.”

“Sure,” snorted Virgil. “Real fine. You just look like you’re about to cry for no reason then. Great.”

Patton’s next breath caught. That was _mean_. Virgil was being mean to him— _again_.

What was he doing wrong?

To his horror, Patton found his breath catching in his throat as a thick frustration builded there. His face grew hot. The corners of his lips threatened to pull down without his consent as Virgil’s parting shot rang true.

“Ah, shit,” said Virgil. “No wait, Patton. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was too late. Patton stuffed his hands over his mouth, trying to smother the sobs that caught with every breath. His face grew quickly sticky with tears. He turned away, scrubbing at them desperately, not knowing _why_ he was crying, just that he was and he didn’t want to be and all these tears were just making him feel worse.

What if the others walked in and saw him like this? What if _Thomas_ saw him like this?

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t _be_ this. This wasn’t him. He didn’t know why he was being so stupid. There was nothing wrong.

He was just a bit tired.

“Oh, no. Hey. Don’t do that.”

Hands reached out, pulling Patton’s fingers away from his face, where he’d been digging into his cheeks, trying to muffle the crying. Patton resisted, unwilling to let the little sobs spill out of him, terrified of the others hearing, of making this even worse.

He could feel Virgil hovering over him and felt bad for worrying him. He felt even worse for the seed of resentment inside him that whispered that all this crying was Virgil’s fault in the first place. It wasn’t Virgil’s fault he was a mess. Oh god, and the others were going to see him like this.

“Okay, okay, I hear you.”

Arms reached under Patton’s armpits, pulling him to his feet with surprising strength.

“You just close your eyes and follow me, okay? I can fix this.”

Patton was tired. Suddenly following orders sounded like a blessing. His eyes closed. He let the hands on his shoulders steer him, struggling to swallow down the noises he was making as Virgil led them away from the living room.

They walked down the hallway. Patton didn’t open his eyes. He heard Virgil open a door, and walked when Virgil directed him. He was taking Patton home. He was getting Patton away. Maybe Patton could finally sleep now.

“Okay,” said Virgil, quietly. His voice was just below a whisper, and close enough Patton could feel his warm breath on the shell of his ear. “The bed’s right in front of you. Just take a step forward and you’ll find it. I want you to lay down, okay?”

Patton nodded his head miserably. He shuffled toward, hitting his knees against the mattress and all but collapsing on top of it. The bed was cool against his overheated skin. He buried his face in the blankets, covering his eyes and mouth with his hands, blocking out the world.

He heard Virgil walk away. The door closed. Patton thought he was alone, was relieved and terrified to find himself alone, but the feeling were fleeting. The bed beside him dipped and he felt pressure of another body beside his. A hand slid over Patton’s back, not rubbing, just resting.

“The door is shut,” Virgil said. “You can scream if you want to.”

Patton couldn’t. He bit his lip, shaking his head.

“No, really,” said Virgil. He was voice was growing louder. “Scream. It’ll help. The others can’t hear us.”

That was promise too big to be true. He shook his head again, wishing Virgil would just leave it alone. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what it was like to be morality.

“Let it out, Patton,” said Virgil, even louder. A hand landed on Patton’s shoulder. “Come on, man.” Virgil raised his voice. “Scream!”

“Stop it!” Patton cried. He sat up, pushing Virgil away. Virgil flopped back onto the bed, unharmed, unsurprised even. Patton glared at him for a second, before looking around in alarm. Where was this coming from? He would never hurt Virgil, _never._ And he certainly didn’t get _angry_.

The room was black around them. It wasn’t _his_ room.

“This isn’t my room,” said Patton. He voice was hoarse. He turned on Virgil, incredulous through his tears. “You brought me to your room.”

Virgil sat up from where he’d been pushed, shrugging. He wasn’t actually smug, Patton realized. There were lines between Virgil’s eyebrows that colored his concern, though his shoulder were slowly lowering.

“I did.”

“ _Why_ would you do that?” demanded Patton. He scrambled to his knees, looking around. Virgil’s room wasn’t a good place to be. It wasn’t a healthy place to be. Least of all for him. Who knows how this was effecting Thomas. “I need to go. I should never have come in here. You know how I get when I’m inside of here.”

“I brought you here,” said Virgil. He had lost that taunting edge that had pushed Patton to scream, and now scooted closer. “Here. It’s going to be okay, Patton. Lay down with me.”

Virgil took Patton’s hands. Patton glanced toward the door. “I should go. I need to go.”

“Just lay down,” said Virgil. “Trust me. Just lay down for a minute.”

And then Patton was laying down. Against all his better reasoning, against everything that screamed that spending time in this room—getting _corrupted_ by this space—was dangerous, he lay down. How could he not? Virgil had asked him to.

Virgil let out a little sigh and brought their hands up together. Patton’s tears had petered into hiccuping breaths and even those were easing, as if finally being able to be heard they resided. Virgil breathed into their clasped hands, warming them, squeezing Patton’s palms.

“You’re not okay, Patton,” said Virgil, quietly. He tightened his hands when Patton pulled to retreat, heart thundering in his chest. “That’s _okay_ ,” Virgil continued firmly. “I’m not really okay either. My room is used to it. And being not okay is what I’m built for.”

Even now, moments after melting down, Patton was not going to let that stand. “You’re great,” he denied, squeezing Virgil’s hands back. Virgil’s lips tipped into a crooked smile.

“So are you,” he said.

Patton swallowed, felt a fresh wave of emotion rise up and pool in his eyes. He blinked, and let the tears fall.

They lay in silence for a little while. Patton wasn’t used to silence. It usually bothered him, left him feeling like there was a void hat he needed to fill, but the thought of speaking now exhausted him. He didn’t sleep, but his mind wandered. His eyes traced the planes of Virgil’s face, getting lost in the paleness of his skin and the darkness of his eyes.

He was tired.

What was he here for?

“You’re here because I brought you,” repeated Virgil. They were close enough their breath mingled, trapping heat between them. Patton’s ankles tangled with Virgil’s. Their hands clasped between them. Patton might have leaned in a moment and kissed him, but he didn’t. Neither did Virgil. But they might have and that felt—well, Patton didn’t know how he felt. He felt empty, but not bad. Patton’s face was still sticky and hot, but that was okay. Virgil’s hands were cool, but that felt nice. The room pressed in around them, dark and cool and quiet.

“You’re Patton,” said Virgil. “You’re emotion. Everything you are feeling is what you are meant to be feeling right now. You’re doing everything you should be. Nothing is broken. You’re not going anything wrong. You’re just taking a break.”

And that sounded nice, didn’t it? It may have been impossible in any room but this one, where happiness was not a requirement, not really a thought even.

Patton could just be. Happy. Unhappy. Tired. This room didn’t care.

Patton finally let his eyes close.

The darkness took over, and Patton rested.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come bother me on tumblr @pyrchance if you'd like.


End file.
